Headaches USUK
by ListenToAutumn
Summary: America and England are sent to France on a business meeting, but when America is a little too alcohol happy, and England's got a headache, things go wrong. Or right!  Suck at summaries, just read  Smut! 8D


Hello.

I guess I should put some words here before you enjoy/hate on this fic.

There is USUK, and mention of FRUK.

Also, tipsy America, cussing, and badly translated French.

Enjoy.

"Your room is 409. Would you like help with your bags?" the man at the check in desk handed England the key to the hotel room.

America was about to agree for help when England interrupted with a stern, "No."

America glared at his friend, then clutched his bag, heading to the elevator.

"Git, you barely have anything to carry to the room, why on earth would you want help carrying it up to the room?" England asked, walking with America to the elevator.

"Because. But whatever, I don't even wanna be here." America dropped his bag, leaning against the wall to the elevator.

"You think I want to? I guess it was decent of Frogface to give us a room in a nice hotel, as apposed to saying at his house." England pressed the button for their floor.

America shrugged, "I don't even get why we have to come to France anyway, I wanna go home."

"Oh belt up America, it's business!"

"Business my ass! He probably has some orgy planned, and we're invited. Hey, if that's the case, can he fuck you, and I run for my life?"

England raised a bushy eyebrow, "Very funny, there will be no rape over this vaca-" England began as they headed down the hall toward their room.

"If you say vacation," America interrupted, "I will have to strangle you. Vacations are to awesome places like Hawaii, or to see Lady Liberty. Not Paris. This is just dumb art."

England scoffed, not wanted to stick up for France, "Your prized Lady Liberty is a French present to you." He said, unlocking the door and stepping into the room. He headed for the window to see the view.

"Hey, but Lady Liberty is mine, it belongs to me, so it's a hot American lady." America crossed his arms, stubborn.

England opened the curtains, amazed by what he was, "This place is just dumb art, huh?" The view was a perfect shot of the Eiffel Tower in all her beauty. The French city was alight at that time of night.

All America could do was swallow his words and look at the amazing view, "Okay, I take that back. This place isn't that bad," he smiled, throwing his small suitcase on the ground, and belly flopping on to the bed, "Just one thing."

"What, you ungrateful Yankee?" England hissed.

"The room, beautiful, spacious, wonderful view, and one, count 'em, one bed."

England turned to America, who was lounging in a seductive pose on the bed, then scanned his eyes around the room for a second bed.

"That perverted wino bastard! There's no way I'm sharing a bed with you! God damn it France!"

America imitated France, "Why don't you want to share a bed with me, Mon Cher? I mean, especially with someone as sexy as moi! Oh honhonhon!"

"Shut up America! It's not funny!"

"Chill bro, I call the bathtub!" America grabbed a pillow and the softest blanked on the bed and headed to the tub, "Dude! This bathroom's huge!"

"Why don't you sleep on the loveseat?" England asked, but America ignored his question. America finished his bed and headed out of the bathroom, taking off his signature bomber jacket.

"Fuck that was a long flight, huh England?"

England looked up from the book that was in his hands, "Ah yes, I'm very tired."

America removed his shirt, "Especially cause you flew to my place like a week ago. You must be tired." America smiled sweetly and placed his glasses on the television stand.

"Very, but France still has to call."

"Jetlagged?"

"Shut up," England laughed, "You're reminding me how much I want to sleep right now."

The phone rang, and England sighed with relief, "Thank God." He answered, "Hello?"

"Oh hello Mon Cher! Enjoying your room?"

"Bastard! One bed?" England watched as America combed his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little and unbuttoning his pants.

"What? One bed?"

"Yes! There is…" America began to slide off his pants, England forgot where his sentence was going, watching him.

"Britain, 'ello? You seem distracted. I should go…"

"No! One bed in the suite! Can't you get us a different room?"

France laughed his usual laugh, "You know you like it. Calm down, it's just two days, and I did it for you."

"Damn you bastard, for me?"

"Stop by tomorrow at twelve o' clock, alright?" France laughed and hung up.

England sighed and rolled onto his back, "America?"

America looked up from digging through his suitcase, "Hrm?"

"Y-you don't have to sleep in the tub."

"Gross dude, anyways, I'll be fine. Don't worry." America smiled, looking for some sort of undershirt to sleep in.

England loosened his tie, took it off and placed it neatly in his suitcase. America glanced at the older man, who took off his socks and folded them, placing them neatly in his suitcase also. _This guy's such a dork, how am I still friends with him?_ America thought as England unbuttoned his shirt, and took it off. His body smooth and pale, he remembered why. America didn't even know why he was so attracted to him. His body wasn't anything above great and he'd always insult him. But still, he knew the feelings were undoubtedly there.

"America!" England yelled, making him think he caught America staring at him with what little vision he had, "You're making a mess!"

He looked at the area his suitcase was in. There were clothes and papers scattered and clumped.

"I was looking for a shirt to sleep in, and I guess I didn't pack one." America laughed, "I guess I'm just sleeping in my underwear. See you in the morning, goodnight!" America slammed the door to the bathroom.

"Weird," England sighed to himself, then realized, yelling to America, "If you think that I'm saying I want to sleep with you, you're wrong!"

He heard a laugh from America's "room". England responded with a loud sigh, "Idiot!"

America rolled around in the tub, trying to wake himself up. He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling, hearing a flush. He sat up, looking at England who was washing his hands.

"Perv, you pee while I'm sleeping in the room?" America yelled.

England splashed water in his own face and mumbled, "Please America, don't yell. I have a headache. Besides, you wouldn't wake up."

America paused, "So when are we seeing Frenchy?"

"Noon, now get dressed, it's almost half past eleven."

America stopped to figure out what that meant, then jumped out of his "bed", "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"Like I just said, you refused to wake up. Now hurry and stop complaining."

"It's not my fault, I had to sleep in a bathtub!"

"I offered for you to sleep in the bed!"

"With you, that's truly wrong." He snickered as he slid on tan slacks.

England held his head and watched America get ready. He combed his hair in place, and put on his glasses, topping it off with his button up and bomber jacket.

England, America, and France took care of business early and sat in France's den, drinking wine.

They talked about good and bad times, like old men who had been friends forever. England wouldn't touch the wine France was giving, whereas America drank more than expected. Everything seemed to be going better than expected, "Sorry about the room, but I bet you had no trouble sleeping with each other."

America was completely unaware of what France was implying, asking France to pour him yet another glass of wine, "Oh no, I slept in the bathtub."

"Oh really? C'est drôle, Angleterre, je pensais que tu voulais faire l'amour à Amérique."

England couldn't speak French, but he knew the phrase, "faire l'amour à Amérique". He immediately went red in the face, "I never said that!"

"Oh, but I know you too well, Angleterre, vous avez faim."

England didn't know what that meant, but he knew it was something perverted.

"Uh dudes, I'm still here." America tried to address some on the conversation's attention to himself.

"Oh sorry Amérique."

"Stop speaking French, it brought my headache back, but only worse!" England held the bridge to his nose.

"Oh you're just upset because you didn't get any."

"Oh shut up! I think we should go America, don't we have an early flight?"

America smiled, "Yeah, damn."

"Go back to your room, I will see you soon." France smiled.

"Goodnight Frenchy!" America waved as they walked out.

"Je fais ça pour toi Angleterre," France sipped his wine, and noticed the bottle was almost empty because of America and himself.

England held his head and groaned in pain as America just sat and watched.

"Maybe… you should just go to bed." America suggested.

"No! I'm not tired!" England held his head, "I just need some… aspirin or something."

"Dude, you're old," America laughed, "What's so big to stay up for anyway?" America was trying to fold and pack away his belongings like England did, but wasn't very good at it.

_To sleep with you…_ England smacked his own head at his impure thoughts, which didn't help his headache. He brought a chair to the window, "Things like this… It's so gorgeous I don't know if I want to pass it up by going to bed at seven."

"Well, you are old and-" America began, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. America looked at the door and giggled, "You answer it, I'm not decent." America stood tall, as if he were proud to be standing around without a shirt on.

As if I didn't know that, England sighed, he felt as if he knew what was behind the door.

"Are you Monsieur Kirkland?" the waiter asked.

England nodded, "Yes, why?"

"Congratulations on your marriage!" He wheeled in a fine champagne and two glasses on a cart covered in soft red velvet. Beside the glasses was a vase with a red rose inside of it.

England grew blushed at the very mention of marriage, cursing his pale skin, and belted out, "We didn't order this?"

"Oh don't worry Monsieur, it was taken care of by someone else."

England was about to yelled at the poor boy about how he wasn't married, and the man who sent it was a perverted bastard, until he felt a large hand on his shoulder. He could almost hear America cheer, _Don't worry Iggy_. Instead he said, "Oh cool, thanks!" And wheeled the cart in.

The room service boy left with a nod, and England glanced at America, "Why did you accept it?"

"Hey, it's a free drink. And that's awesome." America shrugged as England still held his head, "Hey, headache, open this." America grinned with one side of his mouth, making England do whatever he wanted.

England opened it with a loud pop, and foam flowed out the mouth of the bottle. England poured the glasses and they sat by the window, enjoying their champagne, and just talked.

When England finished his first glass, his head pounded against his skull, as if his body were asking him to power down. England thought_, Please, go away headache. This time is priceless and I don't want it to end._ It really was. England and America hadn't argued that entire time, and they were just talking like the best of friends. They would actually look at each other, and have a meaningful conversation, instead of it being about business, or, in America's case, video games. Which was hard for America not to talk about.

Not to mention, he still hadn't put a shirt on.

He held his head and leaned forward, groaning.

"Headache still?" America asked, concerned.

"Bloody Queen Mary, yes! This is the worst one I have ever had!" England closed his eyes hard.

"Lemme try something I read in a magazine." America smiled and sat behind England, facing his back.

"What're you doing bugger?" England moved his hands from his head.

America huffed, "Shush." And slid his fingertips through England hair.

"What are you-"

"Shush!" America placed his pointer and middle fingers on both of England's temples, applying a small amount of pressure, moving in small circles.

"S-stop," England whispered, trying not to demand.

"Am I hurting you?" America teased, and kept the massage going.

"N-no…"

"Then shut up." America transitioned from smaller circles, to larger ones, moving from high to low pressure. America moved a hand to England's hairline, combing through it, one hand at a time, massaging the scalp.

England's headache sure was disappearing, but he was growing a little turned on.

America's fingertips reached the back of England's neck and America whispered in his ear, "Headache gone?"

England tried to cover a moan of pleasure with a cough, saying, "Yeah, gone."

America laughed, "I rule." As his fingers scratched the back of England's neck, "Well, pour me another glass of that stuff."

England sighed, filling both glasses. "Since when did you know how to give a massage?"

He laughed, "Like I said, I read it in a magazine." America leaned in and whispered in his ear, "But you like it."

England could feel his pants tighten around his groin, "How much wine did you drink at Francis'?"

America smiled and kissed England's jaw. England's cheeks turned a shade of deep red and his pants grew even tighter as he felt the cold air from America's kiss, "America! Stop!"

America laughed, "Dude, what's wrong?"

"You're bloody sodding drunk is what's wrong!"

America giggled, almost like he thought England was telling a joke, it was a long sigh of a giggle and after he just looked at England.

"Calm down bro, I'm not drunk." He laughed, hopping over him, crossing his legs and sitting in front of him, looking like an eager little boy, "Arthur?"

Hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the sound of his voice saying his real name, "T-That's my n-name…"

He looked at him with "bed eyes", as if he were about to kiss him, then he spurted out an unattractive, "Duuuh. I know your name dude."

"Yeah, but… It's England, or, or Britain. Never Arthur."

"You left out Iggy."

England just looked at the dulled blue eyes of his former colony and remembered when he called him that, "Where did that come from?"

"You were naming all your names and I remembered it."

"Well stop. Now we have an early flight, and I think it would be wise to go to bed now," England turned him down, despite what he really wanted.

"I want to sleep with you," America bluntly said, licking his lips discreetly.

England was surprised for a moment, and then realized there was one bed, "Very well."

America plunged into the bed with a deep smile on his face and England went to the bathroom to wash his face and ready himself for bed.

America laid on the bed, unsatisfied, he hadn't annoyed or turned on England enough to call it a night. He wasn't even tired. England sat at the foot of the bed, completely clothed and America grinned, "Iggy, I have a question, come here."

England glanced back at America, who was making a begging, "puppy-dog" eyed face. England sighed and scooted to America, "What is it?"

"Just a minute ago you said you didn't want to go to bed, why do you want to now?"

"That wasn't a minute ago, it was well over an hour ago, and because we have an early flight. Go to sleep!"

America pouted, "Then you go to sleep too!"

"I-I am not tired." England stuttered, proving that America shouldn't have to go to bed.

America crawled closer to England, "I wanna know something else."

England could feel the blood rush to his face, "W-What's that America?"

America crawled on top oh him, straddled over his knees and finally cupped the bulge in England pants, "What's this?"

England couldn't tell if he was in pain from being ball-tapped or turned on from being in the hands of America, "LET GO OF ME!"

America grinned, "Eh no," and began to massage his inner thighs, "C'mon England, your body's in for it, dude." He smiled as he unzipped his pants. "You want me inside of you."

"That is completely untrue!"

"Is it?" America grinned, outlining his erection through the cloth of his boxers. England shifted uncomfortably, "Answer me." America demanded, making England harder.

"It's… It's true, all of it's true!"

America smiled, "I knew it bro. Alright, goodnight." America removed his hand from England's crotch, and plopped next to him, closing his eyes.

England was more than upset. He turned to America, "Hey! That's not fair! You can't just tease me like that and then not do anything!"

America wanted him to beg.

"This isn't a game America! Fuck me!"

America grinned, with his back turned to England. England sighed, "I know what you're doing. And I'm not giving in." England body begged for him to though. He just sat on the bed, watching America breathe silently. America counted down from 10 in his head, thinking England would give-in in time.

He could admit himself that we was cranky from not having sex since his pirate days, then having some brat tease him. It wasn't fair to him.

England turned on his side, and closed his eyes, saying, "Goodnight, Alfred."

America sat up, looking at England, "Aw c'mon, your body's beggin' for it, why can't you?"

"I've gone to sleep like this many times Al. I think I can do it again."

"Not with me laying next to you." America said confidently.

England glanced over, wanting to tell him of all the times he's had to. The first time being when America was a teenager, and would listen to horror stories and watch films too. Then he'd crawl into bed with England, scared and cuddling him. Ashamed England faced away from America, repeating, "Goodnight!"

America huffed, "Englannnnnnd." Now he knew he was in trouble. America wanted it as much as his old friend did, he just didn't want to show it, "Okay, fine. You don't have to beg, just ask! C'mon…"

England laughed, "I said goodnight."

"Please… Just ask." Now America was begging. It was hard for someone to bring "the hero" down to such levels.

"America… I said-" England began.

"Okay fine, just- just let me fuck you. Please? Please Arthur." America grew red in the face, trying to hide his shame, "France told me all about this! I know what's wrong with you, why you have a stick up your ass! I know you want this!"

England glared at America, "You want to know why I have a proverbial stick up my arse? Because I have to constantly watch after you after you won your independence! And you got you independence after not wanting to be bossed around by me!"

"I got my independence because I didn't want to be your little brother."

"You just proved my point, you didn't want to be under me."

America pinned England down on his shoulders, "I didn't want to be under you, cause I top." America kissed him longingly, pushing his tongue against England's, hoping to explore his mouth more. England tried to push America off of him with all the decency he had, but he was lost. He felt at peace with the younger nation on top of him, covering him like a beautiful blanket.

America, for the second time, unzipped England's pants, sliding his fingers to the buttons. America groaned, "Why the fuck do you have more than one button on a pair of pants?"

England held America's face with one hand, squishing his cheeks a little; he smiled, "Shut up." And continued their kissing. England couldn't help but smile as America tried so hard to unbutton his pants as they kissed, but he just couldn't. England smacked America's hand away from the button and did it himself.

"I can help myself undress, thank you." England laughed as America watched him undress with hungry eyes. England stripped himself of his pants and shirt, just leaving underwear and black socks on his body.

"You're such a retard if you think you're gonna wear socks," America chuckled.

"I'll do what I please," England sat on America's chest, running a finger softly over the bridge of his nose, removing his glasses. America blinked, adjusting to his poorer vision as England set the glasses on the bedside table.

As soon as the glasses were out of England's hands, he turned and began to softly kiss America's collar. America smiled in pleasure as the kisses got lower and lower. Soon enough England's lips and tongue were teasing one of America's nipples, and he didn't know whether to be uncomfortable or okay with it. After a moment of his lover's lips on such a sensitive spot of the chest, America became comfortable. Even starting to enjoy it.

Until England brought out his teeth.

The very feel of England's teeth softly clamping on his skin made him jump, pushing England on the bed next to him. He laughed, "Heyheyheyheyheyhey! I call top."

England felt weird that it had to be called, and was a little nervous to be bottom. He never had before, "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Yeah, don't worry." America smiled, licking the space between the Brit's thick brows. England couldn't help but smile.

America tugged down his new lover's boxers, about to push three fingers in his entrance. England grabbed his hand yelling, "You really don't know what you're doing!"

America looked a bit stunned to be yelled at by England in such a parental way, it almost disturbed him, so he just stared at him.

England put America's three fingers on his lips, putting one in his mouth, sucking softly, and coating it with saliva. Then he added another, then a third, until they were just a mess of England's saliva. "Now," he instructed as sexy as he could, "one at a time."

America nodded with obedience, pushing his pointer finger into England. England jerked his hips a bit and fluttered his eyes as America added a second. After America understood the "Another, idiot!" from England's soft grunts and whispers, he added a third. America smiled as if he were getting the same pleasure as England, as he pushed him further.

America suddenly pulled out as the phone chimed through England's muffled moans. England glanced over at the phone with a look of anger and disgust. He pulled it off the receiver and left it dangling over the end table.

England licked the bottom of America's ear as he heard a faint, "Are you there? 'Ello? Angelterre? Amérique?" on the phone. He didn't speak until he was sure France had hung up. When his annoying voice died down England whispered as sexy as he could, "Can you make love to me now?"

Hairs on the back of America's neck stood tall and proud like the American at the word love. He was a bit scared, but answered his lover's question by removing his slacks. England snickered at America, who was pitching a tall tent in his Coca-Cola boxers. America grunted, "You're one to talk."

But England wouldn't break his gaze. He was staring at America's every move, from removing his clothes at the bedside, to him awkwardly laying near him, "Dude, stop staring. It's kind of freaking me out."

"I'm just remembering a perfect moment," England smiled and America groaned childishly thinking, _I'm about to fuck your brains out Iggy, don't go all romantic on me_.

America couldn't help but crack a smile and kiss him softly, licking the side of his mouth. England grinned as America awkwardly lifted England's legs to his shoulders. England had what America would describe as a 'ready' face. He was biting his lower lip, ready for pain, but his eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

America began, barely pushing in, making England moan. America smiled as England clenched his jaw looking at the ceiling. America pushed further and laughed as England uncomfortably bucked his hips, adjusting to America further inside him, "H-Harder," England grunted, America pushed again, and England grunted, "You don't have to be so gentle!"

America grinned at that and held England hips, picking up some sort of speed, but no rhythm. Although England loved the feel of America and himself intertwined, he couldn't help but think. _Is America only looking to pleasure himself? He doesn't know what he's doing! What if he never_- then the sudden shock of it delighted him. England screamed a scream that he'd never admit to doing. America laughed at his schoolgirl scream, whispering, "There it is. That was- Fuck that was manly Arthur." America grinned.

England moaned, "D-Do that again."

America thrusted, making England scream again, "Aga-Again!"

America stopped.

"Again!"

"Say my name," America grinned.

Absolute embarrassment spread over England, "D-Do it again."

America began to slide himself out and England had a look of shock on his face, "Am-America…"

America pushed himself back in, "That's not my name."

"Please, Alfred! Please!"

Some sort of mischievous smirk spread across America's face as he ran his fingers softly over England lower abdomen making his way lower and lower…

"Gah!" England shifted, "Let go of me!"

America slid his fingers pack and forth picking a pace, whispering, "My name please?"

"I-I can take c-c-care of myself Alfred!" England yelled, moving his hand over America's. America removed his hand, and licked his lips as he readied to finish England.

He thrusted, but England hadn't changed, he was going weak at the knees and knew he was close to done. He thrusted, and England knew he lost the spot. He watched America weakly struggle, trying to hold off from his release, getting some sick happiness out of it.

And then, it felt random, and startling, but America found it, making England come, screaming (again, like a girl), "A-Alfred!"

America released also, falling back and smiling. He panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead and crawling next to England.

He panted for a moment, and then smiled, "Hey."

England glanced over, with tired green eyes and sighed, "Hello Alfred."

America just wrapped his arms around England squeezing him close and kissing below his cheek, "Fuck, finally you let me fuck you."

England laughed, and mumbled something not understandable.

America looked at England curiously, and grinned, "Round two?"

England looked at him, "No! Go to bed!"

"Aw please…"

"Goodnight America." England turned on his side, away from America

America spooned behind England kissing his shoulder, "I love you too." He said, grabbing England's moist hand.

England hid a grin, and fell asleep.

They had missed their early flight, due to being exhausted, and took another flight home. When England returned to his London home, he opened the door, and collapsed on the couch, happy from his great vacation.

"So I take he was good, Angleterre." A voice chimed.

"Do I ever get a break?" England scooted for France to sit next to him.

"How was he?"

"We went to bed as soon as we went back to the hotel."

France grinned, "Oh Britain. Garçon stupide, maybe you should check if I am off the phone before you start making love?"

England grew red, "That never happened!"

"Oh c'mon, I'd know those grunts from anywhere!" France laughed.

England scoffed, "From when I conquered you! You finished in seconds!"

"You looked so good in a pirate hat!" France laughed his usual laugh; "You're very… awkward during love making!"

"I never made love to you bastard!" England blushed, "It was… a fuck… The first time I made love was…"

"Amérique?"

England sighed, and France put his hand on England's shoulder, "Good job Angleterre, you finally listened to me, Mon Cher."

England blushed, "Yeah, thanks."

"You should listen to me more often…" France laughed.

England stood, "You're pushing it… Wait! What are you doing in my home? How did you get in here?"

France laughed his usual laugh, and ruffled England's hair, "Goodbye Mon Cher." He left, waving and running.

England grumbled something as insulting as usual about France, then went to his kitchen to start a pot of tea.


End file.
